Dancing Dunces
by Zellarest
Summary: Basically just two dorks having a day together where John is pushed out of bed and they proceed to have pancakes and play DDR. Plus sloppy make outs and dorky love confessions on the floor. T for language in some places and cute make outs.


/laughs into infinity at my pathetic attempt at JohnDave

For my soul sister, Maru (Mein Liebling) because she's absolutely perf and a total cutiepie for writing me that JohnDave drabble. Here's my thanks! C:

Just for clarification, Dave is seventeen and John is sixteen.

Okay shutting up now sorry.

.,.,.,.

Pale yellow daylight shone through barely cracked shades. Parts of the room were illuminated by the intruding shafts of lights. Objects wore thin layers of dust like coats. Nomadic motes floated around in the stagnant air, sometimes sliding by the sunlight to light up like some kind of dust glitter, or something.

On the farthest side of the room opposite the windows was a bed. Occupied by two people. Or rather, young men. Full clothed under several layers of blankets. Sleeping as soundly as lions under a shady tree or bunnies in a meadow. Or some bizarre cross between the two.

One of the boys dozed back up with his head to the side, cheek against the sheets, and an arm slung over the edge. Blond hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His mouth hung open, saliva soaking into the sheets and wetting his cheek. He certainly did not drool, no matter what anyone said. Dave Strider did not drool.

To his left was another boy, whose feet had begun to peek out at the edge of the covers. He slept on his side toward the other boy. An arm stretched out here, a hand rested on the other's pillow. Inches from their head. Stark black hair stood out everywhere. His mouth had fallen open to reveal his buck teeth. He snored lightly.

At just past seven, birds sung their sweet, incessant songs outside. Morning chill crept in. And while that all happened, John was pushed quite unceremoniously out of bed.

The rough tumble off the edge of the bed was not halted by one thing. Not even the blankets slowed the fall. No, John rolled onto his back, to the other side again, to take one swift trip down. He fell face first with an alarmed yelp. Upon hitting the cold, hardwood floor sharp pain stung at each of his joints. His elbows had caught the brunt of the impact.

John groaned out of pain. Mostly. The cold seeped into his bones. It was harsh and abrupt and above all unwelcome.

John made a feeble attempt to move. The effort resulted in a dull wave of achy pain. "Oh fuck," he groaned.

A head popped out over the edge of the bed. It was difficult to see without his glasses, but it was definitely Dave. What with him being the only possible candidate. Plus the light hair and dark shades over his eyes.

Man, those always seemed to be on. What, did he wear them in his sleep?

John was snapped out of his thoughts when Dave asked, "Oh hell you okay?"

John inhaled sharply at the pain that he received upon moving either leg. "No," he grumbled.

John had the distinct feeling that Dave rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen," he said. "What happened?"

Dave began removing himself from the bed and carefully tiptoed around John to stand at his side.

"I was pushed out of bed!" John exclaimed. "Thanks!" he added. The remark dripped with sarcasm.

The hand that reached out to him seemed very inviting. Especially with all the aching in his bones. But John still blatantly ignored the hand Dave offered, dragging himself up off the floor. Dave flushed brilliantly.

"Hey!" Dave exclaimed, "I didn't mean to."

"I still didn't appreciate the wake-up call!"

Dave ducked his head and kept it aimed on the floor. Okay, maybe that was a bit uncalled for, John would admit. But his metaphorical feathers were too ruffled to allow him to apologize.

For a moment, John fumbled around the nightstand looking for his glasses. Several noises of aggravation were his primary choices of response to his apparent inability to locate them. No matter how many times he ran his hands across the entire surface of the table it didn't produce any results.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. "Where—"

He heard next to him, "Glasses?" Dave inquired.

"Thanks," John said brusquely.

Smudges marked up on the glass. Thin black frames outlined the lenses. When John went to put them on and nearly poked himself in the eye with the stems—twice—Dave lifted a hand to stop him.

"Here, let me," he offered.

John didn't move to stop Dave while he positioned the glasses onto John's face. It wasn't too hard, given his experience with glasses. He centered them with his face, a hand on the place where the top of the stems met the lenses on both side. They didn't break eye contact through the whole exchange. Or at least John felt so. With those shades, it wasn't easy to tell. But John had a feeling. Like Rose did, but on a smaller scale. Also less creepy.

"There," Dave murmured. "Good?"

"Good," John mumbled.

John noted the less than casual distance they were keeping. So close the morning breath was fairly noticeable. But John appreciated the sparse dots on Dave's cheeks, the unkempt state of his hair that he was sure few had ever witnessed in the flesh.

After a moment of suspended silence, John spoke up. "Uh, we should get moving."

Dave fidgeted nervously but didn't move otherwise. "Sorry about pushing you," he said guiltily.

John knew it hadn't been purposeful. He felt bad for blaming him. "Sorry for yelling," he returned.

"Yeah," Dave murmured.

Awkward didn't even begin to describe the atmosphere. You could cut through the tension with a pizza cutter. Dave cleared his throat and John began moving again. Dave was slow to follow.

.,.

They were sitting on the couch with plates of huge, fluffy waffles fit for kings. The others had been burnt, were incredibly misshapen, or otherwise imperfect. They had all been trashed or eaten by John when he thought Dave wasn't looking. Dave had his feet on the coffee table while he leant back with the plate in his lap. John preferred to sit with his legs crossed.

"Pass the syrup," Dave requested with a mouth full of waffle.

John pressed his lips together in distaste while handing over the bottle. Then without pause Dave drizzled a heap of sticky, maple syrup on the stack of waffles. When John frowned, Dave gave him his best grin.

"You're disgusting," he remarked as Dave wolfed down another waffle. Like a sugar-hungry predator. Maple syrup dripped down his chin.

"Love you too," Dave replied.

John stuck his tongue out at him like a child. The rest of the morning passed without much event. They played video games and drank too much diet soda. John laughed himself into hiccups at one point. While he was hiccupping left and right, Dave laughed at him mercilessly. In retaliation John hit him several times with a couch pillow. It quickly turned into an impromptu pillow fight.

Sometime after lunch, John managed to haggle Dave into playing DDR.

They were sitting on the couch. Dave had stretched out and rested his feet across John's lap. Not that he minded. Several dozen soda cans were littered on the coffee table, along with many snacks and empty food containers. Dave had a small smile at the latter. Bro hadn't neglected to leave him some choice leftovers. And money for pizza. And the house for the weekend. With emphatic orders not to, "break any shit when you're fucking around, okay bro?"

John had become bored by all the lazing around.

"Come on," he pleaded. "At least one song."

"No way," Dave said firmly. He wasn't about to back down.

"Daaaaaaveeeeeee pleeeeeeaaaaaaseeeeee!"

"No, don't. God, don't fucking start."

"But Daaaaveeee!" he whined. "Daaaaveeeee! Dave Dave Dave—" he began chanting.

Dave sat back and laced his fingers behind his head at the nape of his neck. "Don't wear it out," he said amidst the repetitions of his name.

John fell silent and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. A moment of quiet. Then John straightened up with bright eyes and a widening smile. Like he had just gotten an idea.

"Bets on who wins!" John declared.

Dave couldn't turn that down. And he knew it.

"Fine."

John grinned brilliantly. Dave grimaced. That stellar smile was going to be the death of him.

John readjusted himself to lean closer to Dave excitedly. "If I win, you have to say I'm cooler than you are," he offered.

"Really? That's it? Weak, Egbert, weak."

"Uh." John thought for a moment. While the cogs turned furiously in his head, his mouth hung open like an idiot. Dave had two simultaneous urges to slap him and kiss him furiously. "And you have to let me wear your shades! Yeah."

The words "wear" and "your shades" immediately drew the line. And built a gate. Topped with sentry guns and lined with armed guards.

Dave adopted a serious tone. "No way! Nuh uh. Not happening. Not even for you, Egbert."

"Yeah huh!" he replied. "Plus, we both know you'd do anything for me. Come on, Strider!"

The look of enthusiasm was too much to handle. Wide, shining eyes, a huge grin with big goofy teeth and dimples. Dave didn't manage to hold his ground for more than a moment. The whole heavily reinforced gate thing went up in smoke.

"Ugh fine," Dave agreed begrudgingly. But he couldn't hold back a small smile at the giddiness on John's face. "You won't win anyhow," he assured him.

John didn't seem pleased with that statement. The way his eyebrows came together slightly, dimples disappearing meanwhile, made Dave's stomach knot together.

John crossed his arms across his chest. "And if you win?"

Dave though for a moment. This could be a good opportunity to mess with Egbert. It deserved a good thinking about.

"Got it," he said. "If I win," he began with a cheeky smile. "You have to give me a big smooch. Right on the lips." To accentuate it, Dave made kissy faces at him.

"Oh eww Strider!" John said with a laugh. "Okay, okay! I said okay!" he said while trying to shield himself as Dave moved toward him and continued to make faces at him.

.,.

"Shit, fuck, shit! Goddamn motherfucking shit!"

Combinations of obscenities like this came in flurries. Spluttered at the top of one's voice while jumping around like a fool, stomping furiously on the arrows. Usually Dave was the culprit of such vulgar outbursts but John was far from innocent. Together they spat and yelled and hissed malevolently under their breaths some pretty impressive combos.

John laughed whenever Dave slipped. Which was often enough. The grin was soon replaced by a grimace as he concentrated on not falling on his head by the arm that came around with purpose. Dave would let off a riff of curses as the move had caused him to sabotage himself as well.

Dave had a thing where he said the steps out loud. It helped to focus. Especially with all the flagrant cheating going on all up in the place.

Each word grew louder as he progressed, "Right, left, left, back, front, lef-SHIT!"

Giggling came from his left. Dave's gaze shot instantly to the offender.

"That's it, Egbert!" Dave announced angrily and pushed out a hand in a messy shove. It met with John's side.

"Wha—no, aah!" he shouted as he fell.

As John fell he clutched at anything to slow or prevent the fall. One of those things was Dave's arm. Quickly chaos struck. Dave fell with him, voice dying in his throat. They both hit the floor pretty hard. In a tangle of limbs, as well. John gave a long groan. It broke off at the end with a self-pitying, "ow wow ow." Dave had mostly landed on John. Which he didn't give himself time to feel bad about before rolling over to kneel over him.

"But, aww- what about the game?" John asked in a whiny voice.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Fuck that," he replied shortly.

John pulled himself up onto his elbows. He wore a disbelieving smile. "You were just afraid to lose!" he said knowingly.

Dave frowned. All the thoughts in his head were jumbled together. "Shut up," he grumbled back weakly.

"Not until you admit it!" John proclaimed adamantly.

Dave let all of the words out in one big exhale, a mess of words all pushed together, warm against the other's lips, "I wanted to win so I could do this."

In one swift move-a quick dip and tilt of his head-Dave had connected their lips. The collision wasn't hard, or forceful, like in the movies. Just a sweet, gentle meeting. As soon as it happened a high-pitched squeak came from John. Dave immediately pulled away at the sound.

The words came flying out, "Shit, I'm sorry I just—"

John interrupted him with his own flurry of words intended to reassure him. "No, no, I just didn't expect…" he trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Dave did a double take. He began slowly, "Wait you mean…"

"I wanted to kiss you! Of course I did. Jesus, I thought you were smarter than this, Strider."

"Oh." Realization stirred the blank expression on his face. "How long have you wanted to...?"

"Kiss you? Uh," John said. "A few years maybe?"

"That long?"

John flushed. He rolled the edge of his shirt between his forefinger and thumb repeatedly. Like it was a nervous tic. Dave wanted to take up his hands and kiss his fingers and—"Well, yeah," John replied abashedly.

The revelation was like a slap to the face. All this time they could have been making out, or getting milkshakes, or going on dates, like Rose and her girlfriend, or just being _together_. It kind of made him angry and sad, at the same time.

"Are you going to say anything?" John mumbled. His gaze was focused firmly on the ground.

How upset he was feeling showed as he said, "I've liked you too! For—well, for ages! I didn't just get a hankering to stick my tongue down your throat."

John's gaze snapped to him. It was filled with surprise. In spite of himself, Dave couldn't help but to crack an embarrassed smile.

A moment passed in part awkward, part awed silence. Mostly awkward, though.

John smiled sheepishly. "Kiss me again?" he asked tentatively.

He meant to say something smooth and so dashingly charming, but it ended up as, "Uh yeah, 'course,"

With a gulp, he leant down to fulfill the request. This time John closed the distance before taking hold of the neck of his shirt with two hands and bringing Dave down. Years of sexual tension and repressed feelings were channeled into one of the most passionate kisses… well, ever. Dave was sure of it.

A hand through hair here, another hand cupping a jaw here. It went on for a bit with several breaks for air. When they considered themselves mutually kissed-out, they slowly transitioned to just lying on the floor while Dave peppered kisses to the corners of John's lips.

John giggled as Dave landed one last big kiss on the tip of his nose. He then proceeded to bury his into John's neck.

"Fuck, is it crazy to say I love you?" His lips moved across his skin as he spoke. The words were traced across his skin, the last three in particular.

Butterflies raced around in his stomach. His heart swelled. Warmth spread from his head to his toes. "At least buy me dinner first," John murmured happily.

"Ha."

After a few seconds of lazy lull, "I love you too, idiot," John returned before placing a kiss into his hair.

"I don't wanna move," Dave mumbled softly.

"We can stay here as long as you want. I'm not going anywhere."

"Like hell you are, not when I'm literally _laying on top of you_."

"You know what you should do right now you should shut up that's what."

..,..

The end.

goddamn idiots they're so dumb I love them so much


End file.
